


Knight and Day

by Marks



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Knight & Squire, Alternate Universe - No Garreg Mach, Battle, FE3H Gift Exchange, Felix is a knight and Ashe is his squire, Kissing, Lonato Lives!, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21782689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks
Summary: Ashe stared at Felix with wide eyes, which he could now do without lifting his chin at all. In the years they had known each other, Felix had not grown a bit, but Ashe was now level with him. This didn’t bother Felix. People grew. It wasn’t worth dwelling on. Whatever.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 10
Kudos: 113
Collections: FE3H Holiday Gift Exchange





	Knight and Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Okumen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okumen/gifts).



> I hope you like this, Okumen! Felix and Ashe kind of have a built-in folk lore-y AU, so when you mentioned that as something you liked, I hit the ground running.
> 
> Boy, Felix POV is a lot of fun.
> 
> Thank you to brella for looking this over!

“Sir!” Ashe rode up on his gallant steed, having sped from Arianrhod as quickly as his horse would take him. “Sir Fraldarius!”

The horse skidded to a stop, barely at rest when Ashe leapt from its saddle. Felix was scowling, a normal occurrence as any, but today he was even scowly-er. More scowly. The scowling had increased.

“Don’t call me that,” Felix said, crossing his arms over his chest. “How many times do I have to tell you that, Ashe?”

Ashe stared at Felix with wide eyes, which he could now do without lifting his chin at all. In the years they had known each other, Felix had not grown a bit, but Ashe was now level with him. This didn’t bother Felix. People grew. It wasn’t worth dwelling on. Whatever.

“I am your squire,” Ashe reminded Felix, as if he could forget. “I should show you the proper respect.”

“The proper respect would be following my directions when I tell you to stop with the Sir Fraldarius crap,” said Felix.

Ashe nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose I can see the wisdom in that,” he said. “Thank you so much for sharing your knowledge with me, Sir— um. F— Felix.”

Felix nodded, satisfied. Only then was he able to take in the fact that Ashe brought news from the front. “Now what do you need to tell me?”

*

Felix was quite young when he was knighted. All of the Knights of Good King Dimitri’s roundtable were younger than a knight’s average age. This was because bad fortune followed the previous generation at every turn. Dimitri’s father was slain in a conspiracy, the same one that claimed Felix’s brother, and eventually the entire family of Dedue, Dimitri’s retainer. In generations past, the Crown Prince would take his retinue to the Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach, but times had changed.

Dimitri was fourteen years old when he was crowned the king in Faerghus, scoffing at the idea of a regent handling the busy work of governing, and the people had stood behind him. In turn, he asked that his friends stay by his side, friends of his own choosing to act as his protectors. Felix’s father was staunchly against it, which squashed any misgivings Felix might have had.

And so Felix Hugo Fraldarius, second son of Rodrigue and only remaining heir of the Fraldarius territory, got on one knee and pledged his life to his king and country.

In retrospect, it wasn’t the best idea Felix ever had. But, then again, it also wasn't the worst.

Dimitri began his reign trying to undo the damage caused by his father’s death. He uncovered proof that the people accused of the attack on his family were not to blame, though finding the true culprits proved difficult. He quelled invasions on Duscur. He pushed back on the influence of the Church of Seiros, rendering them practically toothless, which eased tensions with Adrestia and the Alliance. All in all, he proved to be a very good ruler, if a little bit softer in public than he truly was in private — at least in Felix’s opinion.

With Felix’s knighthood came the obligation of underlings. Sylvain took on way more squires than he could handle, mostly pretty young women. Ugh. Ingrid acted responsibly, as in all things, searching far and wide for men and women who showed the greatest aptitude toward flying and the sword. Dedue said that his devotion was only to the king and refused any other discussion on the topic, but when Felix tried the same tactic to shirk his own responsibilities, Dimitri laughed for such a long time that Felix almost slugged him.

Felix didn’t want a battalion. He did not want squires. He had no desire to help foster future generations. He just wanted to be left alone with his sword.

But then Lord Lonato petitioned the king. Lonato was a valuable ally, forever grateful to Dimitri for clearing his son’s name, and he had a foster child who wanted to become a knight. The child had no noble blood, no title, no Crest. The only way he could become a knight was through a patron and the goodwill of Faerghus’s young ruler.

Dimitri agreed to the petition with Lonato as the boy’s sponsor. And then he assigned the foster child to Felix. That wasn’t only the second time Felix had wanted to slug Dimitri, but it was the second time in this story.

Felix thought he was getting a brat. And he guessed, in a way, he kind of did, since even though Ashe always smiled and dripped with sincerity, he also still did precisely what he wanted when he wanted. It was annoying. But Ashe wasn’t a kid, tripping over his own training sword and leaving Felix with bigger messes to clean up than he would alone. No, Ashe wasn’t even a year younger than him, and now he was taller than him, too — which again, wasn’t a problem — and he was _competent_. Scarily so. He handled a sword well, rode well, and showed far more proficiency with a bow than Felix ever had.

After five years, Felix suggested that maybe it was time to move on. They’d fought together, trained together, shared meals together, and kept to the same tent. Ashe was a good fighter and loyal to the kingdom. Dimitri would surely grant Ashe his knighthood now at Felix’s recommendation. They could go their separate ways and then Ashe would be free to save kittens from trees or rescue orphans from burning buildings. Alone. Or with twenty beaming squires of his own. Felix didn’t know. It didn’t matter, did it? Ashe would be his own man, away from Felix’s rotten influence, and surely he would flourish. It was easy to picture, and as much as he could never say it out loud, it was what he wanted for Ashe.

But when Felix suggested it, Ashe’s eyes grew suspiciously huge and wet and he shook his head hard. “Sir Fraldarius —”

“Felix.”

“Felix,” Ashe repeated, softer. Felix looked away. “Not yet. I still have so much to learn from you.”

*

“Is something wrong in Arianrhod?”

“Bandits,” Ashe said, still out of breath from his hard ride. His hair was windswept and his cheeks pink. Felix had no idea why he noticed all of this. “They are attempting to take over the city. Lord Lonato is getting on in years, and Christophe has been dispatched to the Sreng border to assist Sir Gautier.”

Felix scowled. Of course Sylvain was making trouble for him, even when he wasn’t doing it on purpose. Actually, that was even worse. That ass should at least have the balls to annoy him deliberately.

“Did Lord Lonato ask for your assistance?”

Ashe’s cheeks went pinker and his eyes flitted away from Felix’s face. Again, Felix didn’t understand why he kept noticing these slight changes, and again, it annoyed him unduly. Knowing how much Ashe needed to blush before his freckles were no longer visible was of no use to him. There was only so much room in Felix’s brain, after all. Observing Ashe and reading his moods probably pushed out a useful sword-handling technique, and that was why Felix didn’t need friends.

“He did… not,” Ashe said eventually. “He just told me to ride back to Fhirdiad and give you a full report.”

“Then I’ll march you up to the castle and you can give Dimitri a full report.” Felix shrugged. “Mind your business. Lonato’s a big boy.”

Ashe frowned. This was a problem because when Ashe frowned, he had a habit of pouting, like he was so bad at being angry that he had to be cute about it. “I know Lonato can take care of himself,” he said. “But he’s done so much for me, and his son isn’t there to help. Maybe the bandits knew that vulnerability! It seems unfair to leave him to defend the city when his troops are halved.”

Felix grunted noncommittally. He hated when Ashe made sense while they disagreed because that meant Felix would have to admit he was wrong. Terrible.

“Lonato is a great man,” Ashe went on, “but he’s also a very proud man. And proud men sometimes have problems admitting when they need help.” He gave Felix a significant look then, whatever that meant. “Please, Felix? Won’t you help me convince King Dimitri to deploy some of his forces? The king will take your words under advisement. He always does.”

“Not always,” Felix mumbled, scratching his head. He already knew the battle was lost. “Ugh. Fine. But let’s get going before I change my mind.”

“Really?” Ashe yelped, and threw his arms around Felix before Felix could even defend himself. When had his squire gotten so fast? Felix tried wiggling his way out of Ashe’s hug, and found he couldn’t. Dammit. When had his squire gotten so _strong_? “Thank you,” Ashe said, a low murmur near Felix’s ear, making heat flood his face. “You are always so good to me.”

Ashe let go then and Felix turned around, stalking off so Ashe couldn’t see his expression.

*

In the castle, Dimitri couldn’t just let Felix say his piece, hand over his men, and get this whole bad idea over with. No, he greeted Felix _warmly_ and he invited Ashe and Felix to _dinner_ , and he didn’t even have the good sense to let it be one of those stuffy royal dinners. He had Dedue cook for just the four of them, and Ashe got all quiet as he ate Dedue’s food and asked for seconds.

“Are you all right?” Felix muttered as Ashe dabbed at the corners of his eyes with his napkin.

Ashe froze when Felix spoke, as if caught in the act of doing something awful. Felix didn’t get it. Crying made him feel awkward, but that wasn’t anyone else’s fault. Felix used to be pretty good at crying, back when he was a kid, something Sylvain still teased him about until Felix could hit him. But then Glenn died and the way he died made Felix more angry than anything else, and ever since, tears just weren’t easy anymore. 

“Sorry,” Ashe muttered back. “Dedue’s food just reminds me of my father’s. My real one, I mean. It’s just been awhile since I’ve tasted something like it.”

“Okay, then.” Felix reached over and tapped the back of Ashe’s hand. “There, there,” he said.

Ashe laughed, though it was shakier than his normal laugh. “Thank you, Felix. That helps.”

Felix had no idea how, but he nodded once anyway.

“Well,” Dimitri interrupted from across the table. He cleared his throat and Felix scowled when he saw Dimitri directed a stupid knowing smile in his direction. Damn him. “Now that our bellies are full, we can get down to business. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Your Majesty,” Felix said, knowing the title would piss Dimitri off, coming from Felix’s mouth. But then he stood, determined to do the right thing for once. For his squire. For Ashe. He took a deep breath. “I come to petition you on behalf of my squire, Ashe Ubert —”

* 

The banner for the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus flew at the front of their brigade, Ashe and Felix riding out front. Felix wasn’t a strong rider, but he understood the utility of horses when it came to getting him from place to place. And Felix’s horse was very fond of Ashe, so as long as the two of them stuck close together, there usually wasn’t an issue.

So of course one of the supply carts hit a ditch head-on and caused a racket. Felix’s horse whinnied and reared up, making Felix snap back. He managed to hold on, but controlling the blasted animal was near impossible from his position. At least the beast didn’t take off at a gallop. Small favors, even as Felix struggled.

“Oh, Caramel,” Ashe said in a sweet voice, barely even leaning in their direction. “Be a good boy and I will find you a carrot.”

The horse immediately settled and started trotting again as if nothing had happened, and Felix attempted to right himself.

“Thank you,” Felix grunted reluctantly. Ashe was so casual about it that Felix doubted any of the troops noticed what had happened, but Felix still thought it was shitty that his squire controlled his horse better than he did. “By the way, I still hate the beast’s name.”

Ashe shrugged and handed Felix a carrot from his saddlebag. “That’s what you get for letting your new squire name your new horse. If you have any regrets about either, I think it’s a little late for voicing them.” 

“I have all the regrets,” Felix said.

“Well,” Ashe said softly, “too bad for you. I’m not going anywhere.” Then he shot Felix a huge grin, one so big that corners of his eyes crinkled up.

Felix whipped his head toward the front again, and had to purse his lips to keep from smiling.

*

The campaign on Arianrhod was a rousing success. Ashe hadn’t underestimated the enemy’s forces; in fact, calling them bandits was underplaying things a bit. The enemy group fully intended on overpowering Lonato’s forces from Gaspard and claiming the fortress city as their home base. Felix didn’t know if they planned on declaring war against the Kingdom or all of Fódlan. 

It didn’t matter, though, because they clearly hadn’t figured on Kingdom forces reacting so quickly. Felix was glad to fight again; he was always most at home with a sword in his hand and a battle thrumming through his blood, but that didn’t mean he wanted war. War caused chaos and death, and could be never-ending. Of course he would serve if his king asked him to. It was his sworn duty, after all. But that didn’t mean he’d like it.

The fighting lasted three days and three nights. At the end of it, there were injuries and casualties to deal with, but nothing compared to the other side. The leaders of the bandits were captured and would be brought to justice. Felix hoped he wouldn’t have to process any paperwork afterward, but he didn’t feel too confident about that. Another reason he hadn’t wanted to ask Dimitri in the first place. But he had, and he didn’t feel too bad about it now. He couldn’t, not with Ashe being so happy.

“Lord Lonato is thrilled. I’ve never seen him glow the way he did this evening,” Ashe reported, throwing back the flap on Felix’s tent and letting himself inside. He, too, seemed to glow with the flush of victory. “Thank you again, Felix. I cannot thank you enough.”

Felix grunted from his cot and propped himself up on his elbows. “You’ve thanked me so many times that I’ve lost count.” He jerked his head in the direction of Ashe’s bedroll. “Maybe you should get some rest before you do it another dozen times.”

Ashe laughed and shook his head. “I’m far too giddy for sleep,” he said, crossing the tent and not even having the decency to stay to his own side. He threw himself down on Felix’s cot, continuing to glow like a firefly as he held up his hand, palm down, to show Felix. “You see? I’m trembling.”

“Adrenaline. It’ll wear off and you’ll crash hard.” Felix watched Ashe’s hand as it, if anything, shook harder. “For saints’ sake, knock that off.” In frustration, he grabbed Ashe’s hand between both of his and rubbed it like he was trying to start a fire. On top of the shaking, Ashe’s hand was freezing. How long had he been stomping around in the cold, high on battle, and probably not eating either? He was lucky he hadn’t fainted dead away. Felix growled to himself and redoubled his efforts, completely focused on his task.

Ashe eventually cleared his throat. “Felix?” he asked, making Felix look up.

Ashe was staring at him, wide-eyed. Pink stained his face, across his cheeks and nose and stretching all the way to his ears. It was only then that Felix realized what this must look like: a knight and his squire, alone in their tent after a complete victory, on a bed and holding hands. Felix dropped Ashe’s hand like a hot potato.

“Sorry,” Felix mumbled and looked down.

“Oh,” Ashe said and paused for such a long time afterward that it hung in the air and took weight, wrapping around Felix like a blanket. But then Felix heard Ashe draw in a shaky breath. “Don’t apologize. You see, my other hand, it — it also trembles.” He put his other hand on top of both of Felix’s, folded in his lap.

Ashe had not lied. His other hand shook at least as much as the first and it was also chilled, though it began to warm with the help of Felix’s skin. Swallowing hard, Felix slid one hand atop Ashe’s and began the process again, though his face burned this time around. He knew he wasn’t good at reading people, but even he could tell this caused a shift between them. Felix became acutely aware of how close together they were on the bed, how deliberate and ragged Ashe’s breath became the longer Felix touched him. Then, just as Felix finished telling himself how stupid he was being, not even able to meet his squire’s eyes and touch his hand at the same time, he felt the faintest brush against the top of his head. Ashe’s other hand was still clenched into a fist at his side, and when Felix, surprised, finally lifted his chin, Ashe’s face was so close they could share breath.

“Thank you, Felix,” Ashe said for the millionth time that day, though he did not shift away with this new proximity. No, instead his eyes flicked down to Felix’s mouth, giving Felix all the time in the world to process his intentions, giving him the chance to shift away and deny any of this was happening. Felix didn’t.

The press of their lips was brief, barely anything, but Felix’s hands tightened around Ashe’s own hand, still trapped between them. A swirl of emotions mingled inside Felix’s chest — mortification, surprise, intrigue. Neither of them moved away and even though Felix knew and dreaded the fact that they would need to discuss this later, at the moment the only thing he felt capable of doing was watching the shape of Ashe’s mouth. His eyes widened as Ashe wet his lips.

“Can I.” Ashe paused and sucked in a small breath. “Can I do that again?”

“You’d better,” Felix growled, and Ashe laughed as he leaned in close once more.

*

Ashe Ubert, squire of Sir Felix Fraldarius, was knighted upon his return to Fhirdiad because of the immense bravery he showed at The Battle for Arianrhod. He quickly took on twenty smiling squires, all bow knights who would help usher in a long period of peace for the Kingdom of Faerghus.

Far later, history would remember Sir Ashe well. Books would be written about him. Songs, too. There was so much poetry about him that seventeen volumes could be found on the shelves in the library of the royal family; a lot of it was epic, a lot romantic. Some were both.

All of them included Good Sir Felix, the Lone Knight, who took only one squire in his lifetime, but never left Ashe’s side, not even after they were both equals in King Dimitri’s court. At least half of the poems implied Ashe and Felix were something far more than just friends. 

That half was right.

**Author's Note:**

> i like kudos and comments and drinking too much caffeine at unfortunate hours. feel free to come on over to my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nonnonnegative) and say hi! ♥


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